Page 83 of Vicious Heir

The vows are enough. The paperwork is enough to keep her from Desmond. He’ll never know if I slept with her or not. That’s the one step that could give me credit in Ronan’s eyes, too, ifhe ever finds out. At least right now, I can say I married her to protect her, but didn’t touch her.

Didn’t take her virginity, at least.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I’m married—to you—and there’s a dead priest, and Desmond escaped, and I should feel something about all of that, but I just feel… numb.”

"That's shock," I tell her gently. "It'll pass."

"Will it?" She looks up at me, and the vulnerability in her eyes makes my chest ache. "Elio, what have we done?"

"What we had to do," I say firmly. "You're safe now, Annie. That's what matters. Desmond can’t force you into marriage. You were right to suggest this. Now we can focus on flushing him out of wherever he’s hidden and put an end to this once and for all."

She nods, but she doesn't look convinced. We sit in silence for a while, and I watch her, memorizing every detail. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the faraway look in her eyes.

My wife.

For now.

"I should let you get some rest," I finally say, standing. "It's been a long day."

"Elio, wait." Annie stands too, wrapping her arms around herself. "About tonight?—"

"Nothing happens tonight," I cut her off, keeping my voice gentle but firm. "You've been through hell, Annie. The last thing you need is?—"

"That's not what I meant," she interrupts. "I meant that we should—we need to?—"

She stops, her cheeks flushing, and I realize what she's trying to say. My body responds instantly to the thought of consummating the marriage, my cock thickening in an instant. There’s not a molecule of my body that doesn’t want her—thatisn’t desperate for us to take this all the way to its natural conclusion.

Butfuck, I know better. And this isn’t how I wanted any of it to go.

"No," I say immediately. "Absolutely not."

"Elio—"

"I said no, Annie." I take a step back, putting more distance between us. "I agreed to marry you. I agreed to protect you. But I'm not going to—we're not going to consummate this marriage."

"But—"

"This is already going too far," I continue, thinking of Ronan. Of what he would do if he found out I married his sister. If he found out I touched her. "Your brother would kill me. Slowly. And he'd be right to do it."

"Ronan doesn't have to know," Annie argues. An argument she’s made so many times before, about so much already.

"That's not the point." I run my hands through my hair, frustrated. "Annie, this is supposed to be temporary. You said so yourself. So why complicate it by?—"

"Because if Desmond manages to get to me," Annie interrupts, her voice rising, "and he finds out I'm still a virgin, do you know what he'll do? He'll get the marriage annulled. He'll say it was never consummated, never real. And then Desmond will force me to marry him anyway. All of this will have been for nothing."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut because she's right. She's absolutely right. A marriage that's never been consummated can be annulled. It wouldn't protect her at all if someone challenged it.

"Annie—"

"I'm not saying it has to mean anything," she continues, and each word feels like a knife to my heart. "I'm not asking you to pretend you want to do this. I'm just saying it needs to be realenough to protect me. Real enough that no one can undo it. If I’m willing to do it, then?—"

I stare at her, torn between what I want and what I should do. Between my desire for her and my loyalty to Ronan. Between my love for this woman and my fear that she doesn’t feel the same way. She wanted me before. I wanted her before. But all of this has become so tangled, so complicated, that neither of us can just be honest with each other. Neither of us can sort through what’s real and what we’re being dragged into because of what Desmond has done.

I should have convinced her, somehow, to tell Ronan the truth from the start. But we’re too far into it now. And the thought of taking her to bed is a temptation beyond anything I’ve ever faced before.

But if I ever got to be with her like this, if I was ever given this one thing, I wanted it to be real. Real, the way it was eleven years ago. Real, the way I can never be sure that it will be, now.

"You don't know what you're asking," I say quietly.